


...And I Smile Through My Tears

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Love Is A Different Kind Of Pain [5]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Autistic Cooper, Bisexual Male Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I'm torturing Harry again, Ignores Season 3, Investigations, Lodge dodge, Lots of sad feelings in this one, M/M, Murder, Slow Burn, but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: Dale can hear his friend swallow. “Yeah, uh… usually you stop being married when the other person runs out on you and you never hear from them again.”“How long has it been since you last saw her?”His friend hesitates for a moment. “Him, actually.”“I see. How long since you saw him last?” Dale repeats calmly.“About three and a half years I think. It’s one’a those things, y’know, a classic that you hear about from people all the time. We were fighting a lot and then one night I came home from work and he was gone. His truck was gone, his clothes, everything. He’s never tried to reach out or anything and by now I think it’s a safe bet he never will.”
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Series: Love Is A Different Kind Of Pain [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718449
Comments: 28
Kudos: 40





	1. A Box Of Condoms

**Author's Note:**

> The title alone should tell you _exactly_ what kind of fic this is. Also all of you better cry reading this, dammit, because I almost cried WRITING it so it's only fair!

“Sorry about the bunk bed, Coop.”

“It’s quite alright, Harry. This is your cabin, and you never have to explain yourself to me.”

There’s two tiny bedrooms, one with a large bed clearly intended for two people and one with a bunk bed. Dale deposits his stuff-sack beside the bunk bed and returns to the central area of the hunting cabin, where Harry is running back and forth to his truck and piling fishing gear onto the table by the woodstove. Dale steps outside again, folding his hands in the small of his back and closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath through his nose and smiles at the smell of the trees and the lake.

“So does it get the official Dale Cooper Seal of Approval?” Harry jokes, lugging his own stuff-sack now.

“Absolutely,” Dale nods before closing his eyes a second time. “This is heavenly and makes me highly optimistic that our fishing trip will proceed much more pleasantly than the one I took with Garland two weeks ago.”

A palm claps his upper arm and they both return to the cabin. Harry kicks the door shut behind him and carelessly pegs his bag of clothes into the room on the right.

“Thanks for coming down with me, Coop. It’s been a few years since I’ve brought anyone here.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he promises, sitting at the table and inspecting the tackle boxes. “Spending time with you is never a hardship for me, Harry.”

His friend’s ears turn pink as the statement elicits an almost shy grin. “Glad to hear it.”

They ultimately set aside the fishing gear and have a meal of maple-flavored baked beans, then retire to their separate beds with piles of wool blankets. April is still cold out in the woods, especially without central heating. Dale has no trouble drifting off into dreams…

_He sits in a chair… it’s not unlike the waiting room of the Black Lodge, although these curtains are silvery-blue and the floor is pristine white tile. Dale realizes he’s experiencing a vision of the White Lodge._

_“Who are you?”_

_He isn’t alone. A man sits on the couch, wearing gray cargo pants and battered tan workboots. His shirt, curiously, seems extremely similar to one of Harry’s uniform shirts, open and not tucked in with the sleeves rolled up. He has short hair of tight black curls and his skin is a warm medium-brown._

_“I’m Dale Cooper, I’m an FBI special agent.”_

_The man nods. He has kind eyes. “You helped solve the murder of that girl.”_

_“Yes, I did. Excuse me, but may I ask why I’m here?”_

_Now, his visitor looks sad. “How’s Harry doing?”_

_“Well, he’s alright. I’m on a fishing trip with him this week.”_

_“Is he happy?”_

_“I believe so, yes.” Dale feels concerned. “Excuse this question, please, but… who are you? Do you need help?”_

_“Yeah, I do.” He stands and takes a hesitant step towards Dale. “I have to show you…”_

_Dale gets to his feet and follows after the sad man in the khaki shirt. He notes the man’s hands: rough, workman-like, and with a discreet gold wedding band on the left ring finger. The height is approximately five feet, ten inches. They walk through a gap in the lovely silver curtains and onto the pavement. A self-serve station, Mobilgas._

_“Where are we?”_

_The sad man doesn’t answer and only continues walking. Dale trails along, to the back of the gas station, past the dumpsters and into the woods. He feels tortured by the image of a white domino chip._

Dale’s eyes open to the underside of the top bunk. The blue light of morning is coming through the window and he frowns. A white domino chip… Hank Jennings, perhaps? But Hank is in prison. Hmm.

Dale extricates himself from under his blankets and changes out of his pajamas into pants and a flannel, then finds Harry frying up a classic breakfast of eggs and bacon on the stove.

“Sleep well, Coop?”

“Yes, although I did have troubling dreams of a man in danger,” he admits. “I’m concerned, Harry. This vision involved the White Lodge and a gas station that I’m unfamiliar with, and I have no clues as to the identity of the man in question.”

“Huh. Well, we’re on vacation, so try not to think about it I guess,” Harry suggests with a helpless shrug. “Over hard, right?”

“Right on the money, Harry.” In search of a fork to eat with, Dale pulls open a drawer under the small counter and is immediately amused. “When was the most recent time you came here?”

“Last week, you were still in the hospital. I drove up to make sure the roof hadn’t caved in or something before making the invitation.”

“Is there anything I should be aware of, then?” Dale grins, holding up a box of condoms.

Harry looks shocked. “Oh, god, were those _here?_ ”

“They were indeed…” Dale squints at them. “They expired last year.”

“Yeah, those are…” Harry seems unhappy. “You can just throw them away. That’s from way back when I was still married.”

“Oh, I see. But surely you’re not anymore,” Dale assumes, owing to Harry’s use of past-tense and also his prior relationship with Josie Packard.

“Yeah.” Dale can hear his friend swallow. “Yeah, uh… usually you stop being married when the other person runs out on you and you never hear from them again.”

He sits and takes a moment to decode this. Harry never mentioned being married before, though it does make a small amount of sense - Dale has noticed on more than one occasion a ring hanging around his neck alongside the pendant and has wondered about its origin. Harry is distressed by the ending of this marriage because it wasn’t his choice, and has had no contact with his spouse since they parted.

“How long has it been since you last saw her?”

His friend hesitates for a moment. “Him, actually.”

“I see. How long since you saw him last?” Dale repeats calmly.

“About three and a half years I think. It’s one’a those things, y’know, a classic that you hear about from people all the time. We were fighting a lot and then one night I came home from work and he was gone. His truck was gone, his clothes, everything. He’s never tried to reach out or anything and by now I think it’s a safe bet he never will.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

A sigh. “Yeah, me too. It’s my fault anyway, he wasn’t happy. He wanted to leave, live someplace else and get away from the lumber mill. I wanted to stay in Twin Peaks, and I guess I just argued with him about it one too many times. So he packed up his shit and went.” Harry pauses while dishing the eggs onto plates, then finally produces the missing forks before sitting. “I don’t think about it as much as I used to.”

“It’s understandable after such a length of time,” Dale offers.

“Well, wherever he ended up, I really do hope he’s found somebody else, he does a lot better when he’s got someone. I bet he has. He’s a real sweet guy, whenever I wanted to squash a spider he’d pick it up and take it outside instead…” Harry’s smile is equal parts fond, lonely and sad. “And he made me put up a wire fence instead of shooting the woodchuck that kept eating our garden.”

“What’s his name?”

“Shaun Lewis. Y’know, he might’ve gone back to Canada.”

Dale nods sympathetically and debates for a brief length of time whether to ask his next question. “Harry, forgive me, but your relationship with Josie…”

Harry makes an indignant face at him, now. “I can like both, Coop.”

“Yes, I see.”

“I don’t think you do, most people don’t.”

“It’s alright,” Dale assures him. “I’ve also pursued relationships with men in the past.”

“Oh.” Overt surprise registers in his friend’s expression. “Uh. I never would’ve guessed.”

“Harry, I hope you never feel the need to worry about sharing anything with me. You’re an excellent friend and I have never judged you.”

“Yeah.”

They proceed to finally eat their breakfasts and then begin their fishing excursion. Sitting in a boat in the middle of the lake, Dale has a sense that he should be calm and at peace, but it’s impossible when Harry still seems so miserable owing to their prior discussion. He immediately sees the need to reassure his friend.

“Harry, I’m led to believe you’ve been extremely unlucky in love.”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“All of my relationships have ended in disaster as well.”

Harry nods slowly. “Coop, what happened with Annie wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. And while I was hospitalized I had some amount of time to reflect on my experiences in the Black Lodge and in general my experiences in Twin Peaks as a whole. And I’ve come to realize that I’m something of a chaotic mess bordering on lunacy.”

His friend snorts a laugh. “What?”

“For a longer time than I’d care to admit, a sense of normality and stability has been continually denied to me. And so I’ve recently been prone to chasing this elusive concept whenever the opportunity to do so presents itself, hence my attempting to buy property or my short and overly-quickly paced relationship with Annie. I wasn’t in love with her, I was desperate and she looks similar to Caroline.”

“That sucks, Coop.”

“I will continue to search for stability, likely for quite some time. At the current moment, I do still intend to find a place to live here and put in a request with the Bureau to be transferred to the Seattle field office.”

“Women are gonna be running after you in packs once you move here,” Harry chuckles. “They’ve only held back because they thought you’re temporary.”

“Yes, I have noticed this on previous occasions,” Dale admits. “I’m not sure why that happens with such frequency and to be perfectly honest I wish it wouldn’t, because it’s distracting and unproductive for everyone involved.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Harry laughs. “Most guys would kill to have _half_ the number of women who drool over you going after them instead.”

“Alright, Harry, I have a confession to make in that case.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“I like men better.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s quantified fairly cleanly by saying that sixty percent of the time, I would be in a relationship with another man instead. I again attribute this to my search for stability. Women are beautiful and desirable to me, but in a relationship with a man I can take comfort in the familiar and knowing what to expect. Women can at times be… unpredictable.”

“Yeah, that’s for damn sure.” Harry shakes his head and sighs. “Coop, even knowing this about you now, I still can’t believe you’ve never been married.”

“Well, the only person who I felt strongly enough about to marry so far was murdered by her husband after she had an affair with me,” Dale reminds him in a dry tone. “Given the choice, and the right person, I would absolutely choose to marry them. I have a strong belief that in the search for love and romantic partnership, attempting to find a perfect human being is impractical and unrealistic at best. Instead, you should search for someone who best compliments your own traits, either through similarity or through differences. The missing portion of your soul, so to speak.”

“That’s pretty wise.”

“It seems to be to my detriment. I’ll never be able to settle for anything less.”

“Coop, you shouldn’t have to settle anyway. You’re a great guy and you deserve to be happy.”

Dale smiles. “Thank you, Harry. I’m glad you think so.”


	2. An Unlocked Door

“Harry, do you always leave your door unlocked?”

“Yeah, why?”

They pile their catch onto his kitchen table, which is still frozen despite being in an ordinary picnic cooler for the entire hour and a half return trip.

“I thought it was a myth until now.”

“Coop, you really think anyone’d be dumb enough to rob the house of a police officer?”

“I suppose not, no.” It seems like an odd detail that he should pay attention to, so he files it away in the back of his mind. “Would you like me to put these in your freezer?”

“Yeah, go ahead, it’s in the basement. Door’s over there next to the bathroom.”

Dale hauls the load of fish down the stairs and discovers the freezer immediately, which on inspection has some amount of what appears to be venison inside, expertly packaged into single-person serving sizes. The fish is deposited and Dale returns to the ground floor. In the hall, his eyes catch a picture frame… it’s Harry, as well as the man he saw in his dream four days ago. Their arms are around each other’s shoulders and both of them have huge smiles on their faces.

Dale’s stomach sinks with despair as he realizes, owing to seeing the White Lodge in the vision, that it’s extremely likely Harry’s estranged husband is in fact dead.

He immediately wonders if this could’ve been a murder, supposing Shaun Lewis is no longer alive like he currently suspects. He imagines that anyone Harry would be willing to marry would be a person with enough integrity to at least leave a note in explanation before disappearing without a trace. It’s only a hunch, but already the data is compiling in his brain like any of his other cases. Further investigation will occur at the earliest opportunity.

“Whatcha staring at, Coop?”

“This photo on the wall. Presumably you and your spouse.”

“Yeah, that’s him. He didn’t take any pictures of us together or of me when he left. I guess I’ve just been too lazy to take them down.”

“Harry, is Josie the first person you attempted a relationship with after your husband left?”

“Yeah. Sad, huh?”

“It’s not unreasonable. How long were you married?”

“Almost three years, but we knew each other for a little while before that. It doesn’t usually happen like this for me, but I went on two dates with him and already knew I was gonna marry him.” A glance over shows him a despondent and lonesome demeanor in his friend. “I should’a done something different, Coop. He was unhappy and I couldn’t fix it.”

“Tell me about him,” Dale requests, aiming to soothe Harry and gather information at once.

“Okay…” They wander back to the kitchen together and Dale sits while watching Harry open the takeout boxes from the Double R. “He smoked. It wasn’t too bad, maybe half a pack a day, but I kept trying to get him to quit and he never did. I drank less when he was with me, though. And he was so… he’d never actually fish or hunt with me, but he’d always come along on the trips. I asked him why, since he never liked killing animals, and he said it’s because he just liked being wherever I was.” Harry smiles at the memory, then starts chuckling. “One time, I actually did get him in the boat. Thank god it was summer when this happened, he actually fell out and everything in his wallet got soaked. He had to get all his ID cards replaced and it was a huge pain in the ass, a driver’s license for the States, one for Canada, and then his resident alien card. After that he just kept his wallet in a Ziploc bag at all times. I always teased him for it.”

“What part of Canada is he from?”

“Vancouver. You like hockey, Coop?”

“Yes, actually, I used to follow the Flyers.”

“Man oh man, _nobody_ goes rabid for hockey like a Canucks fan. I got cable just for him and whenever there was a game on CNBC I lost all tv privileges for about three hours or so. Sometimes I’d watch with him, but it was more of an excuse to snuggle up on the couch. I could never keep track of what the hell was going on no matter how many times he explained it. He had the exact same problem watching Seahawks games with me, too.”

Harry’s grin is mostly fond, now, pleasant experiences coming to him as he talks. Dale smiles as well.

“Presumably you weren’t able to actually procure a certificate of marriage.”

“No, of course not. We threw a party and put on gold bands, there were no legal… anythings involved. The town was kinda weird about it. Nobody threw bricks through our windows or anything, we mostly just got funny looks from people. Ben Horne actually congratulated me… that by itself was real odd, too. He’s the last person I expected it from. My mother and my brother were okay with everything but my dad disowned me on the spot when I told him. Shaun’s family flew down for the party, though. They seemed pretty happy for him.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“Yeah, it was great.” Harry picks at his food and gradually looks sad again. “I thought about him again after what happened with Josie, too. When I was tryna drink myself to death in the Bookhouse, I mean. I miss him more these days than I did a few months back.”

Given that Harry’s already not in the best mood, Dale decides now is an ideal time to speak about his dreams.

“Harry, there’s something you should know.”

“What?”

“I told you before that I recently had a vision in my sleep about a man in trouble. In fact, having now seen photographs, the man I saw was your husband. I have a strong feeling that he’s missing, and I’m considering cutting my vacation time short and launching an investigation.”

Harry nods with a grim expression - he’s certainly aware of the nature of Dale’s dreams by now. “I see.”

“Supposing I find him and he’s in good health, would you like me to ask him to contact you?”

His friend hesitates. “Maybe. He left for a reason, he probably doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Alright. In any case, I’m going to begin speaking with people and compiling evidence. At some point I will have to officially interview you as well once I’ve gotten the go-ahead from Gordon. It’s very likely Albert will become involved just so you’re aware.”

“Great.” Harry sighs. “So why do you think he’s in trouble, Coop?”

“In the dream, I asked him if he needed my help, and he said yes. He led me to a gas station and into the woods behind it, but I didn’t recognize the location and I awoke before reaching the point he was taking me to.”

Dale elects at this time not to inform Harry that he believes Shaun was murdered. Until he has proof, there’s no point to upsetting his unlucky friend any further.


	3. A Hunting Trip

“HELLO?”

“Good morning, Gordon! It’s Cooper!” he yells into the phone receiver.

“HI, COOP! WHAT CAN I HELP YOU WITH? I THOUGHT YOU’RE ON VACATION!”

“I am, yes! However I have an urgent need to cancel my time off and begin an investigation! There’s a possible missing person and local law enforcement is not equipped to handle the case!”

“WHAT ABOUT THE STATE POLICE?”

“Gordon, they’re unlikely to take it seriously!” Dale admits. “The man in question is gay, black, and not a US citizen! They won’t be interested in finding him!”

“I SEE! WRITE UP THE SPECIFICS AND FAX THEM TO ME, I’LL TELL HR TO CANCEL YOUR VACATION AND SEND ALBERT YOUR WAY AS SOON AS HE’S AVAILABLE! GOOD LUCK, COOP!”

“Thank you, Gordon!”

Dale replaces the phone and turns fully to the conference room table where Harry and Hawk are sitting and watching him intently.

“He give you the okay?” Harry asks.

“Yes. I have to give him a brief summary of why I’m starting this case, and while I’m doing that you should come up with a list of people for me to question. Albert is on his way as well, and unfortunately Harry I will have to interview you first, so if you can clear your schedule it would be appreciated.”

“I have nothing going on today, it’s not a problem.”

The paperwork commences. Dale writes into his what he couldn’t say on the phone with Harry present, and also requests for the proper means to speak with Canadian authorities and possibly travel to Vancouver if need be. It’s faxed to his supervisor at precisely the time Harry and Hawk finish compiling their list of potential witnesses, and after that Hawk leaves so Dale can question Harry.

“Harry, I know you understand this procedure, but I still feel it’s important to remind you at this time that you should tell me any details you can remember, no matter how insignificant they seem and even if they’re painful or distressing,” Dale says gently.

“I know.”

“Alright, let’s begin. When was the last time you saw Shaun?”

“Uh… November, I think. 1985. I went on a drinking binge after he left so it’s a little fuzzy,” Harry admits.

“Had you fought recently prior to his departure?”

“I think so. Maybe a couple days before.”

“Do you remember if he said anything to you before leaving?”

“I don’t know.”

“Alright. What did his vehicle look like at the time?”

“A Chevy pickup truck. It was this real weird shade of green and had a busted tailgate, he always had it tied shut with some rope because it couldn’t stay up on its own.”

“Harry, during your arguments about whether or not to move and live somewhere else, did Shaun mention any locations in particular?”

“Someplace warm, usually. He wasn’t specific about it, just ‘someplace warm.’ But he also talked about going back to Vancouver sometimes because he wanted to be with his family. Every time he said that I told him I couldn’t go with him, it’d be too hard for me to get citizenship because there’s no same-sex marriage over there, either. At least nothing that’s legally recognized, anyway.”

“Did he at any point say anything to indicate he was considering leaving you?”

“Not exactly. Mostly he kept asking why I wanted to stay here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I see. Can you think of any reason aside from his ethnicity or sexual orientation that someone would want to harm him?”

“Not really. Coop, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Everybody liked him here, that’s probably the reason why the town didn’t riot when they found out about us.”

“Did he express any dissatisfaction towards aspects of your life together that weren’t related to your living in Twin Peaks?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think so. That was the biggest thing, other than that we just had the kinda regular things couples fight about.”

Dale nods and finishes writing in his notepad. “Thank you, Harry. I’m sure you know me well enough by now to trust me when I say I’ll do everything possible to find out what’s happened.”

“Yeah, of course I do. I’m sure you’ll find him, Coop.”

They both stand. Prior to opening the door, Dale reaches out and pulls his friend in for a long hug. He regrets prying open Harry’s mental wounds, but hopefully uncovering the truth will provide some closure at the very least.

“Harry, I hope you understand, but when I conduct interviews going forward I won’t be able to take you with me.”

“I know. I’ll send Hawk with you instead.”

Dale reads down the list of names while Harry speaks with his deputy. It’s not especially long, only twelve people in total. Shouldn’t take more than two days, assuming nothing comes up.

“Who’s up first?” Hawk asks as they get into Dale’s car.

“I believe the diner will be quiet enough right now for us to speak with Norma. Hawk, I need to share something with you, given your expertise in these matters.” He describes his dream in detail. “Please don’t tell Harry this, but given that I saw the White Lodge in the vision, I believe that Shaun has been murdered.”

“It makes sense,” Hawk agrees grimly. “I had a bad feeling about the whole thing back when it happened, too.”

“This goes without saying, but I hope I’m wrong.”

“Me, too.”

Dale sighs as he stops at a red light. “I fail to understand how people who are as inherently good as Harry are often the ones who suffer these tragedies the most often.”

“Even if this turns out badly like you think it will, he’ll be alright eventually,” Hawk speculates. “He’s got you, now, and you’re good for him.”

“Excuse me?” Dale’s not sure he understands the meaning of that.

Despite the situation, Hawk’s expression is equal parts humorous and exasperated. “How long is it gonna take for you two to figure out you’re in love with each other?”

“That’s an excellent joke,” Dale says flatly.

“It’s not a joke, Cooper. I would’ve figured you’d be less thick than him, but I guess I was wrong about that. Anyway, like I said, Harry’s got you and he’ll get over this eventually. Now, if something happened to _you,_ who knows what would happen with him but it sure wouldn’t be pretty.”

It’s fortunate for Dale that the drive from the station to the diner isn’t a long one, so there’s not much time to dwell on this strange topic. He refuses to think about it any further as the two of them get out of the car.

“Morning guys,” Shelly smiles as they approach the counter. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Dale nods. “Is Norma available? I need to speak with her.”

“Yeah, she’s in the back, I’ll go get her for you.”

They sit as a black coffee and a white coffee are set down. Guiltily, as much as Dale likes Hawk, he thinks to himself that he would still prefer to be here with Harry instead.

“Good morning Hawk, Agent Cooper. What can I help you with?”

“Norma, I’m beginning an investigation into a missing persons case,” Dale starts. “Unfortunately, I have reason to suspect that Shaun Lewis did not leave Twin Peaks of his own accord. I understand that the most recent time you saw him was over three years ago, but I’d like to ask you some questions anyway.”

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Do you remember anything strange about his behavior prior to his disappearance?”

“Well, he and Harry were having problems. I thought it was strange that he left at all, though. They didn’t seem to be at that point yet, and it was pretty sudden.”

“Was anyone else behaving in a peculiar manner around the time of his disappearance? Either right before or right after?”

Norma frowns slightly and begins to look worried. “Hank went out on a hunting trip and didn’t catch anything. I didn’t think it was strange at the time, but in March he and Ernie went on one too and came back empty-handed. That’s what he told me, but later I found out the truth from Harry about him having a meeting with drug smugglers.”

“Did Hank ever have any reason to dislike Shaun?”

“Not that I remember.”

“What was the general consensus of the town when Harry and Shaun got married?”

“I don’t think anyone was surprised. Some people weren’t very comfortable with it, but most of us were happy for them. I think so many odd things happen around here that this was almost normal by comparison.”

Dale nods, taking comfort in this statement because he believes her when she says it.

“Do you recall ever hearing Shaun mention any particular location that he might like to visit or move to?”

“No, I don’t think he ever said anything about leaving, especially not by himself. I think he was still counting on convincing Harry to go with him… it always made me worry about them, too. I don’t think Harry could ever leave Twin Peaks even if he wanted to.”

“What is Shaun’s personality like? How did people feel about him?”

“He was always friendly, a real people-person. He left good tips whenever he came here.”

Dale takes a moment to process this information and in so doing pauses for a long sip of coffee.

“Thank you, Norma. If at any point you remember anything that seemed odd or unusual around the time of his disappearance, please come to me or Deputy Hawk with the information and not Harry.”

“I understand, I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thank you.”

Dale sighs quietly through his nose, looking into his coffee mug.

“So Hank is our main suspect so far?” Hawk guesses quietly.

“It would seem so, yes. I previously had a moment in my vision where the idea of a white domino chip plagued me incessantly, it was shortly before I woke up. Is there any reason Hank would be particularly eager to murder Shaun?”

“Maybe just to get to Harry, they used to be friends until Harry finally stopped being so damn gullible and figured out what a scumbag Hank is. But even for Hank that doesn’t seem like it’d be worth the effort to go through for killing somebody, murder’s hard to get away with and even Hank’s not dumb enough not to realize that.”

“I hope I’m wrong, Hawk.”

“Yeah, I know you do. I hope you’re wrong, too.”


	4. A Cold Case

“I’m concerned, Albert,” Dale admits quietly as they sort papers together all across the conference room table.

“About your boyfriend, presumably?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dale says for the dozenth time, “but yes. Once he returns from the traffic collision I’ll have to inform him definitively that Shaun is officially missing.”

They were extremely disappointed to discover that, while Shaun’s whereabouts have indeed been unknown for the past three years, a prior investigation had been completely mishandled by local law enforcement and without the US police putting in any effort there was little that Canadian authorities had been capable of doing. In response to this, Dale and Albert have now confiscated the pathetic, haphazardly-compiled files on the case from the Washington state police and are attempting to draw any meaningful conclusions with little success so far.

“He’s a big boy, he can handle it,” Albert snorts.

“Not necessarily. Assuming this case turns out how I expect it to, it’s extremely likely that Harry will end up on a bender due to a lack of healthy coping skills. I don’t want that for him.”

“Well, that’s his prerogative, now isn’t it?”

“Albert, instead of being unpleasant and irritating to be in proximity to, perhaps you’d see fit to concentrate on the task at hand,” Dale says, losing patience with the perpetually sour disposition of his colleague.

His frustration, admittedly, isn’t solely directed at Albert. Dale’s intuition has strongly latched onto the idea that Hank killed Shaun, but aside from his vision (which is inadmissible in a court of law for many obvious reasons) he only has Norma’s ambiguous speculations to support that theory, which isn’t enough by itself to create a viable avenue of pursuit. He needs stronger evidence if he’s going to question Hank.

Out in the lobby, the doors bang open and Dale tenses when he picks out the distinct sound of Harry’s cowboy boots on the floor. He finishes the sentence he’s writing and flips over his notebook just as his friend appears.

“Looks like you found something.”

“Yes, we did,” Dale affirms slowly. “Harry, I know you know better than to try and look at my case files when you’re a witness in this investigation.”

“You see me rifling through your stuff, Coop?” Harry grunts. “So he’s definitely missing.”

“Yes. There was previously an investigation by the state police in conjunction with Canadian law enforcement. However, they were disinterested in working on it and the investigation was ultimately abandoned. Technically speaking, I’ve opened up a cold case without even realizing it.”

“Yeah.” He glances down at the floor. “But you’re gonna find him, right?”

It occurs to Dale that what Harry is really asking is whether he thinks Shaun is still alive or not.

“I’m pursuing every viable lead, Harry, I promise. Have you ever known me to not take a case seriously?”

“…no.”

“Alright. Go eat some donuts, I’ll keep you in the loop to the extent that I’m able to without compromising the investigation.”

Harry nods and thankfully leaves. The burden of knowledge weighs heavily on Dale at the moment, and he wonders how much longer he’ll be able to lie through omission to his friend.

“Coop. Look at this.” Albert slides an open manila folder across the table to him. “Previous charges brought up against Hank Jennings, he was acquitted due to a lack of evidence owing to the Washington state police force’s general ineptitude.”

Dale nods and scans the file. “July 1981, first degree murder of Joshua Bates in Spokane… weapon was never found, and they couldn’t do ballistics because the bullet exited the victim’s body and wasn’t recovered by the forensics team. The wound was consistent with a .44 caliber pistol.” He looks up and yells through the doorway. “Harry!”

“Yeah, Coop?” comes the answering shout from down the hall.

“Will you please bring me the ballistics file on the round that incapacitated Leo Johnson?”

“Sure, hang on!”

Hank’s arrest report from a few weeks ago is delivered along with the ballistics and medical data for Leo. Dale and Albert both take a turn carefully examining this paperwork, and at last the picture is beginning to partially reveal itself. They can establish a pattern at the very least for how Hank prefers to go about his murders, even though the motive in all three cases is unclear. The pages are organized together in Albert’s very particular way until everything amasses one large folder which can be tucked away in his briefcase.

The next step: check records from hospitals in a one hundred mile radius for any John Does who presented with a gunshot wound as the cause of death from October 1985 through June 1986.

“I see this going one of two ways,” Albert grumbles. “Either we’ll be inundated with hunting accidents or we’ll get all of two files, both of which have female victims.”

“You don’t think we’ll find him?”

“In hospital records, no. It’s pretty likely we’ll figure out where he got iced at least, but he’s not turning up in a file.”

“In any case, this is a necessary procedure, and I would appreciate you not saying those kinds of things so loudly.”

“He’s going to find out eventually.”

“Albert, you won’t say a word about this to Harry until we know for certain one way or the other,” Dale orders, holding up his hand sharply to indicate that he’s absolutely serious and won’t budge on this topic.

Albert rolls his eyes. “Delaying the inevitable.”

“That may be true. But I desire very strongly for us to be wrong and there’s no sense in making Harry miserable when we have nothing solid to back it up yet.”

Phone calls and faxing ensue. Fortunately, Harry has been called out of the station for a group of teens vandalizing their school, so he isn’t present to ask too many questions about why they’re so busy with the fax machine in Lucy’s cubby.

“Agent Rosenfield, Gordon Cole is on the phone for you,” Lucy announces. “I’m transferring his call to the phone in the conference room.”

“Great,” Albert says sarcastically, but dutifully answers the phone. Through the closed door they can still hear him shouting in response to whatever it is Gordon wants from him.

“Agent Cooper, why are you trying so hard to find Shaun? Won’t that be counterproductive for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you find him, then it’s possible he and Sheriff Truman will go back to being together like how things were before Shaun left, and that wouldn’t be good for you because everyone knows you have a crush on him so then Sheriff Truman will be happy again but you’ll be unhappy because you’ll have missed your chance.”

“Lucy, at this point I’m forced to ask where these rumors are coming from that I’m romantically inclined towards Harry.”

“But aren’t you?” she asks, puzzled by his response.

“We’re just friends.”

“But Agent Cooper, that’s what people always say when they’re seeing someone but don’t want people to know it yet,” Lucy argues. She glances around and whispers: “Sometimes he looks at your butt when you walk away from him.”

Dale is shocked into speechlessness for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she nods. “I’ve seen him do it at least five times, so I don’t think we can call that an accident. He smiles a lot more when you’re around, too.”

Truthfully, Dale has noticed that. In order to make Harry smile, all he’s ever had to do is smile himself. It works every time.

“Lucy, at this time it would be extremely unprofessional for me to pursue anything with Harry beyond our current state of close friendship,” is what Dale elects to say rather than attempt to further deny having feelings for Harry. “And after what happened with Josie I suspect he’s not emotionally available for a relationship right now anyway.”

Now, Lucy just seems exasperated. “Agent Cooper, just because you’re not as rude and mean as Agent Rosenfield doesn’t mean you’re not terrible sometimes,” she huffs. “Most of the time you’re on top of these things, but there’s only one other person besides you that hasn’t noticed that Sheriff Truman’s had a crush on you way before what happened with Josie, and that’s _Andy._ But _you_ were trying to get me to fix _my_ love life when yours is an even bigger mess, which is very hypocritical if you ask me.”

Dale mentally concedes that she does have a valid point on that.

“Like I said, he may not be recovered yet from Josie’s death. If he does turn out to be interested in beginning a relationship with me, I’ll let him approach the subject on his own terms. I don’t want to be intrusive.”

“But he won’t do that!” Lucy insists. “He doesn’t _ever_ make the first move, Agent Cooper! He’s too shy and uncomfortable for that. And he’s also kind of thick, so he probably doesn’t know you like him back, and he’s going to sit there and be miserable until you say something to him about it. You can still choose not to do that if you want, because you have free will and I’m not your boss, but I think it would be really unfair to everyone.”

“Excuse me, Lucy, but this really isn’t any of your business. Or Hawk’s, given that you likely have conversations with him on the topic of my personal life. I’m going to request that moving forward you respect my privacy, and Harry’s, by not dwelling on this topic anymore.”


	5. A Photograph

_Dale is sitting inside the White Lodge. When he looks, the subject of his investigation is also present, watching him._

_“Shaun, please tell me. Was Hank Jennings involved in your disappearance?”_

_Shaun doesn’t answer, but rather stiffens in discomfort at the sound of his own name. “Highway 6. It’s southbound, on highway 6.”_

_“What’s southbound on highway 6?”_

_“You need to find it.”_

_“What? What do I need to find?”_

_Shaun shakes his head._

Dale opens his eyes and allows himself an exasperated groan. Why is it so impossible for entities of either Lodge to speak to him in phrases that make immediate sense?

The ceiling over his head belongs to the guest room at Harry’s house. His transfer request has been approved yesterday and he’ll be officially reassigned to the Seattle field office once this case is concluded, so he’s checked out of the Great Northern and staying with Harry while he looks for a permanent residence in Twin Peaks. There’s something to be said for waking up in a friend’s home rather than the impersonal nature of a rented room, no matter how lovely the pine walls are there.

Dale proceeds through his morning yoga routine, noting that his ribs seem to be nearly finished healing by this point, and goes into the kitchen for coffee still wearing his pajamas. There, he discovers Harry: showered, shaved, partially dressed in work pants and an untucked undershirt. His friend stands at the stove with three frying pans - eggs, sausage, bacon.

“You like yours burnt, right?” Harry asks, jerking a thumb at the bacon-pan.

“Yes, that’s correct. Good morning, Harry.”

“Morning, Coop.”

“I was planning on eating at the diner, but this is equally welcome,” he smiles, finding a mug of coffee waiting for him on the table and sitting. He takes a long sip and sighs with contentment. “Harry, I had a second vision last night in my sleep, and I believe I’ve found another possible lead. It’s likely Albert and I will be out of town for the day while we follow it up.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“May I borrow a photograph of him? It may be useful.”

“Uh… sure, I’ll dig one up for you out of one’a my albums.”

On a sudden hunch, he asks: “Harry, did Shaun ever wear your uniform shirts?”

“Yeah, sometimes. He’d wear them to work and come back covered in pine pitch, I’d have to wash the damn things three times to get it out again. How’d you know that?”

“He’s wearing one in my visions, Harry. It seems peculiar to me.”

“I’d wear his shirts, too,” Harry chuckles as he turns off the stove and dishes up the food. “It got to a point where our laundry was so mixed up we had no idea whose stuff was whose most’a the time.” He gives Dale a plate and sits down while the fond smile drops from his face. “Coop, listen. I’m not stupid, and unlike your boss I’m not deaf, either.”

“I never thought you were either of those things, Harry.”

“When you’re getting cranky at Albert and the door to the conference room is open, especially if I’m in the kitchen getting myself some coffee, I _can_ hear what you’re saying, y’know. Now I want you to tell me, and be honest…” A swallow. “Do you think he’s dead?”

Dale wishes he could sink into the ground and vanish rather than continue to face the intensity of Harry’s eyes.

“Yes,” he whispers eventually. “Harry… I hope you can understand, I didn’t want to tell you so because I don’t want it to be true and in the case that it isn’t you shouldn’t have to go through undue suffering. But I’m running out of excuses for myself at this point and in my dreams he’s appeared in the White Lodge both times. Albert and I, after looking through the evidence, have reason to believe that he was murdered, and we also have suspects who we’ll begin to question soon. And…” Dale almost chokes. “Harry. I’m so sorry.”

Harry’s eyes drop to the table and he scrubs his face with his palm. “Uh. He’s in the White Lodge, though, right? Not the Black?”

“Yes, he is.”

A nod. “Well. Good.”

“He asked me about you during our initial encounter. He wanted to know if you’re happy.”

“Really?”

Dale swallows and takes a deep breath. “Regardless of his current state, I will find him for you, Harry. At the very least, you deserve proper closure, and I’ll make sure that you have it.”

Harry nods again. Quietly: “…thanks, Coop.”

It’s unclear how, but both of them manage to eat their breakfast in its entirety. The meal is spent in silence and Harry leaves to go to the station a few minutes sooner than Dale, mainly due to the fact that he still has to change out of his pajamas and shave. Dale completes his morning routine with a lingering sensation of regret that Harry’s day has to begin on such an awful note, which he’s unable to shake in the twelve minutes it takes for him to also drive to the station.

He collects a donut from the kitchenette while Harry takes roll in the conference room and is unsurprised that Albert is hassling Lucy about the fax machine immediately on arrival. Dale goes over to intervene.

“Lucy, please file any reports that are faxed to us from hospitals into an evidence box. Albert, we’re taking a drive this morning.”

“Why?” Albert demands.

Dale describes his vision. “I believe if I pay close enough attention, I will intuitively sense precisely the location we need to find. As soon as I have a picture from Harry, we can leave and begin searching.”

“Coop, are you going to drag the both of us on a wild goose chase all day?”

“Of course not, I have a good feeling this will be a productive use of our time and resources.”

After obtaining a photo of Shaun from Harry’s wallet (along with a promise not to lose or ruin it), Dale spends the next two hours driving southbound on highway 6 doing his best not to bicker with Albert lest it break his concentration.

Of course, he wasn’t accounting for this: “Isn’t your birthday tomorrow, Cooper?”

Dale frowns as he thinks. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Why?”

“You should do something nice for yourself. Go out on a dinner date with your hayseed boyfriend.”

“Albert, there are slightly more pressing matters at hand than the thirtieth anniversary of my messy debut in a hospital operating room,” Dale says, loudly and inviting no argument. “And Harry still isn’t my boyfriend. Please have some tact.”

“Coop-”

He puts up his hand and there’s silence in the car once more. Dale tunes carefully to his sixth sense, mentally feeling for any presence of the White Lodge’s influence or that of its agents… although, five minutes later, this is rendered entirely unnecessary.

The gas station from his first vision comes into view around a bend.

“Albert, I saw this in my dream,” he announces excitedly as he pulls in and parks.

“What, a haunted tetanus factory?” Albert sneers.

The self-serve station is decrepit and unoccupied. In Dale’s vision, it had appeared to be functional, though it stands to reason that when Shaun saw it in 1985 it was still up and running. Judging by the extremely limited encroachment of local flora, this gas station can’t have been out of operation for more than two or three years. Dale notes a pay phone and out of curiosity he tests it - it’s functional.

They venture past the small facility and over to the edge of the forest. Dale retrieves the photograph from his pocket and gently places it on the ground. His guess was right on the money - it immediately dances away from them into the trees, riding an air current that so far as he can tell doesn’t quite exist in the realm of reality considering that there’s no breeze stirring his hair or clothing. Paying that no mind, he jogs after it, never letting it out of his sight.

The phenomenon occurs without interruption for at least ten minutes, likely closer to fifteen, but abruptly stops when the photograph catches on a fallen tree limb and stays put. Dale plucks it free and sets it down again, but it stubbornly returns to the same spot.

“Albert,” he says, digging some loose change out of the inner pocket in his suit jacket, “go back to the pay phone. Call a forensics team for an excavation of this area. Please also notify the hospital in Spokane that we’ll likely be arriving with human remains that will need examination in their morgue. After that, call the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Station and notify Harry that it’s unlikely we’ll return before tomorrow morning.”

Thankfully, Albert doesn’t complain or argue and accepts the indeterminate amount of dimes and nickels that Dale stuffs into his palm. Dale watches his back as he disappears in the direction of the gas station and sighs while tucking away the photograph of the victim.


	6. An Autopsy

Dale’s first order of business on arrival back in Twin Peaks is to stop at the Double R for coffee. He’s been working all night in the woods outside Spokane and is in desperate need of a boost, especially considering what he has to do next. Following his mug of joe and a brief visit to the men’s room, he drives straight to the station. Harry’s truck is already parked outside, a fact that he’s unsure whether to dread or be grateful for.

“Good morning, Lucy,” he greets as he comes in, mainly out of lingering denial that the morning is not, in fact, a truly awful one for a number of people, himself included.

“Good morning, Agent Cooper. Sheriff Truman is taking roll at the moment but he should be available shortly and you can wait in his office if you want.”

“Thank you.”

Dale waits in a chair in front of Harry’s desk with Albert’s briefcase in his possession. He isn’t in any way looking forward to this task, and for once no amount of coffee or donuts can lift his spirits.

“Morning, Coop. You look like you’re about to drop dead,” Harry comments.

“Harry… it would be in your best interest to close the door and sit down,” Dale warns softly.

Harry’s expression turns somber. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.” He waits until Harry is seated. “Albert and I had a breakthrough in the case yesterday. A large one, in fact.” He stands up and sets the briefcase on the chair so he can open it and remove its contents. “A forensics team was called in from the Seattle field office to excavate an area outside Spokane yesterday afternoon. They discovered a body, buried under approximately two feet of soil. Due to significant deterioration attributed to the passage of time, the remains were not immediately identifiable… however, some items were recovered, and the clothing was partially intact.”

Dale slowly retrieves a number of sealed plastic bags marked EVIDENCE and lays them out on Harry’s desk. Rotten cardboard, obviously part of a pack of cigarettes, on which the brand _Maurier_ is barely recognizable. A gold wedding band. A grimy but undamaged Ziploc bag. A leather wallet in excellent condition. Finally, identification documents: a resident alien card, a BC province driver’s license and a Washington state driver’s license… all reading the name _Lewis, Shaun M._

The office is silent for a very long time. Harry’s fists and jaw are clenched, his eyes are red and glassy with moisture that refuses to yield to gravity. With a shaking breath, he unfolds one hand and reaches hesitantly for the evidence packet holding the wedding ring, picking it up and staring at it hanging from his fingertips. The hand closes into a fist again, crumpling the clear plastic, and Harry hides his face inside his other palm as his shoulders begin to shake.

“Harry, I’m sorry, but I need you to verbally confirm that these belonged to your husband.”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out. “All this stuff is his.”

Dale nods. “Alright. Would you like a moment alone?”

Harry nods into his hand without words and Dale collects the evidence packets to be deposited back in Albert’s briefcase. Gently, he pries open Harry’s fingers to get the wedding band, and replaces it with the photograph he borrowed yesterday. Dale leaves the office with the briefcase and closes the door behind him.

“Lucy, please redirect any calls for Harry to any other places you can send them today. It’s very likely he’ll be going home in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Agent Cooper.”

He goes into the conference room because there’s a phone there and dials up the morgue where Albert is currently located.

“Rosenfield.”

“Albert, it’s Cooper. Harry confirms these items belong to the victim.”

“Okay. We’re still early into our analysis, but so far it’s looking a hell of a lot like the cause of death is identical to the Joshua Bates murder and the incapacitating injury to Leo Johnson. The bullet is being sent back to the Seattle lab for ballistics and we should know if it’s a match by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. From the placement of the bullet, even with severe tissue disintegration, I’m hazarding a cautious guess so far that it penetrated the heart and the victim bled out instantly. Now, you mentioned previously that he used to wear Truman’s work shirts.”

“Yes.”

“See if you can get one of those shirts over to us, there’s enough intact clothing that we can do a comparison to see if it’s the same manufacturer. If it is, it’ll help us prove his identity in court.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Thank you, Albert.”

They hang up and Dale places the briefcase in evidence lockup for the time being until he can return it to its owner. Then he goes back into Harry’s office. Harry doesn’t raise his head from his hands or really move at all in response to this intrusion.

“Harry, I think it would be best if you went home for the day.”

A slow nod. “Probably.”

Dale sits and reaches over, taking one of Harry’s hands to fold between both of his own.

“I spoke with Albert about the current progression of the analysis. In his opinion, it happened suddenly. It’s very likely he didn’t even feel it.”

After Josie, Dale had offered a horrible, sick type of comfort, that she’d been responsible for a great deal of pain and trouble for others and that knowing would ultimately ease the burden of loss that Harry felt at the time. Now, he can give closure, and a small reassurance that his friend’s husband didn’t experience any undue suffering. None of this changes the fact that Dale is once again speaking to Harry about the death of someone he loves. It feels incredibly unfair. Harry is such a good, kind man and in no way deserves to go through this, especially not twice in such quick succession.

Dale stands up from his chair and walks around the side of the desk, not letting go of Harry’s hand and ultimately pulling his friend up and into a hug. He aims to be a security object in this moment, something for Harry to cling to without any shame or fear of further abandonment. Dale concentrates very hard on projecting this idea: _I’m here. I’m here just for you. I’m not going anywhere._ And in so doing realizes that he needs to take Harry home and not leave for anything unless Harry comes with him, because Harry should absolutely not be alone right now.

“Harry, I’m going to drive you back to your house. I’ve already informed Lucy that you aren’t available and she’ll direct your calls to Hawk.” While gentle, he ensures that his tone of voice invites no argument. “I’ll stay for the day as well and look after you.”

They leave and get in Dale’s car after he’s informed Lucy to hold any calls he receives from Albert. The ride to Harry’s home is predictably quiet, and Dale is very thankful that all of his belongings are already there so he won’t encounter any hassle in changing into more comfortable attire.

Getting out of the car: “Coop, I think you should just go back to work.”

“No, it’s alright, Harry. I want to help.”

Harry glowers horribly at him in reply. “You’re not gonna stop me from drinking.”

“The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Dale says honestly. “No, Harry, I’m not going to stop you. I just don’t believe it’s in your best interests to be by yourself at the moment. People have done strange and terrible things in the wake of grief.”

“What, you think I’m gonna shoot myself or something?”

“Of course not.” It isn’t exactly a lie. He knows it’s unlikely, but hasn’t ruled it out as a possible outcome. They enter the house. “Harry… bearing in mind that you’re not physically injured, this is possibly not the best comparison. But when I was stabbed, I regained consciousness in an empty hospital room that was attended by one overworked nurse per shift. Even without the slow hemorrhage that eventually burst inside my lung, the loneliness by itself seemed like it could’ve finished me off at the time. I don’t want that for you.”

Harry loses a great deal of his indignant bitterness at this explanation and his shoulders slump as he looks at the floor. “That’s fair, I guess.”

They part briefly to remove their work uniforms. Dale, sleep-deprived still, elects to put on his pajamas instead of actual clothes, not only because he longs desperately for a nap but also as a reminder to himself that he may not leave the house at this time because Harry is under his care. When he emerges, Harry is sitting in the living room wearing sweatpants. His hands are folded together between his knees and he hangs his head.

Dale settles beside his friend on the couch. “If there’s anything specific I can do to make things any less difficult…”

Harry shakes his head. “You can’t fix this, Coop.”

“I know. I’m very sorry for that, too.”

“It’s not your fault.” A pause and then a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I couldn’t possibly be anywhere else right now.”

Harry stands up, but Dale senses that he’ll return shortly and doesn’t follow. When he does come back he’s unscrewing the cap from his emotional crutch without even the pretense of restraint embodied by a shot glass and sits while taking a long gulp from the bottle. The cap is set aside for now and it’s impossible for Dale not to feel more sad on his behalf with every passing second.

“Hey, Coop?”

“Yes, Harry?”

He starts to shiver and there are tears rolling down. Another long swallow of whiskey before he completes his thought.

“You ever just… you ever just sit here and think, ‘why me?’”

“Yes, I have done that,” Dale allows. “And I don’t understand why you, Harry. You’ve done nothing to warrant any of this.”

Harry frantically wipes his face on his hand as a noise escapes that’s indicative of him holding in a sob.

“Y’know, I could’a been okay if it turned out he really did just leave… I never thought… Coop, all his stuff was gone when I came home from work.”

Dale nods. “You leave your home unlocked, Harry. The perpetrator simply walked in and retrieved his personal possessions to give the illusion that Shaun left of his own accord.”

“But why?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know. We have a suspect who we’ll question soon, hopefully we’ll be able to determine the motive. However there appears to be similar cases in the past which we can use for a comparison.”

“I can’t figure on anyone wanting to kill him, he was the nicest guy…” Harry rubs his eyes. “You would’a liked him, too.”

This in combination with Lucy’s previous observations chills him. It reminds him of his own recent romantic entanglement, where he’d subconsciously recognized the visual similarity between Caroline and Annie. But he’d never even loved her, he’d been trying to replace someone else with a similar person. That could be what’s happening here, now, for Harry. Personality-wise, Dale is reminiscent enough of Shaun to make Harry want him as a replacement. Harry doesn’t actually want Dale at all. He’s pining after someone he can never have back and will settle for the next closest thing he can find.

Dale wants to cry.

But he doesn’t, it would be selfish of him.

None of this is Harry’s fault, after all.


	7. An Interview

Albert, who’s driving today, glances at him and groans.

“What the hell’s wrong with you this time, Coop?”

“Nothing,” Dale lies. He doesn’t want to get into it.

“There’s obviously _something_ going on,” Albert argues. “You never look distracted or go this long without talking.”

“Oh, how long have we been driving?”

“Exactly.”

Dale shakes his head. He’s not in the mood to explain to anyone, least of all his cranky and insensitive colleague, that the current state of Harry’s existence is essentially causing him emotional harm and he’s suffering immense grief by proxy.

Albert lifts a hand from the steering wheel. “Five.”

It’s simply unfair. Dale doesn’t have any other word to do justice to the situation. Harry had been fine, more or less, until this investigation was reopened. Now he’s vulnerable and raw, he insisted on going to work today but Dale’s sure he’ll begin to drink excessively the second he returns home for the evening.

Albert’s thumb folds into his palm. “Four.”

And he still doesn’t understand why events unfold this way so often, why there’s such cruelty inherent to these circumstances. Harry’s innumerable good qualities far outstrip him suffering alcohol addiction or the fact that he tends to be somewhat gullible, which so far are the only truly negative aspects to be found in him. He’s possibly the man most undeserving of this tragedy that Dale knows of, and yet it’s befallen him twice, now.

The index finger also curls down. “Three.”

Dale is, at times, capable of great depths of empathy, and it tends to be a downfall for him. This certainly meets those criteria. Somehow, the emotional part of his mind tricks itself into believing that if he can also feel the brunt of the pain one of his friends toils under, then said friend will be relieved of that burden. However, it doesn’t actually work that way, and only serves to leave him helpless and wounded for no good reason.

The middle finger disappears. “Two.”

Dale has been through exactly the situation Harry is in right now. He wants, so much, to be able to fix it… but it’s not fixable by its very nature. Harry’s not alright. And Dale can’t make it alright for him, either.

The ring finger. “One.”

Albert’s countdown concludes at exactly the moment when Dale’s self-discipline slips and he bursts into tears, immediately hugging himself with his arms and rocking a little in the seat. He has zero control over this and can only wait for it to cease on its own, because his despair apparently has reached a boiling point.

Once Dale gets a grip on himself, he notices that they’re parked on the side of the highway with the flashers on. Albert hands him a handkerchief to wipe his face with even though he’s sure he has one on his person.

“Now that that’s out of the way, how about you just tell me what’s going on.”

Dale shivers with an aftershock as he blows his nose and realizes he’s essentially trapped in this vehicle with Albert, which means he has very little choice but to comply. He gives his colleague an abbreviated version, ending with his observations that Harry’s attraction to him is likely a subconscious recognition of similarities between his personality traits and the late Shaun Lewis’.

Albert frowns. “Cooper, I hate to put a stop to the pity-party you’re throwing yourself, but that hick cowboy of yours has had a thing for you long before even that little magic act you conjured up in the bar. And back then, the issue was already settled for him, and he wasn’t expecting Shaun to come back at that point. Trust me, he wants you for you, not for how much you might seem like a ghost to him.”

Dale blinks. “How didn’t that occur to me?”

“You know, I was reading the DSM-III the other day…”

“Albert, _no._ Don’t start with that again, there’s nothing wrong with my neurological function,” Dale insists.

“You having a meltdown in the car just now begs to differ.”

“You’re not a psychiatrist and you can’t diagnose me,” Dale points out.

Albert rolls his eyes and pulls them back onto the road. “Coop, I think you need to just talk to him.”

Dale is ashamed of himself for being surprised at Albert’s apparent support. His colleague is cranky and difficult to work with, but isn’t a bad man by any stretch of the word.

“This is hardly an appropriate time for me to begin a discussion with Harry about my romantic inclinations towards him.”

“Obviously I didn’t mean right this second,” Albert grumps. “Maybe in a few weeks or so, when this whole debacle isn’t so fresh anymore.”

They bicker about it for most of the remainder of the drive, but rework themselves into an air of professionalism when they arrive at the state prison. Documents are presented, their identities are confirmed and they’re given clearance for entry. They’re led to an interview room and shortly following Hank Jennings is escorted in by a guard, who are both trailed by Hank’s lawyer. He’s sat in a chair and his wrists are cuffed to the table.

“Well, well. You again,” he grumbles, eyeing Dale. “It’s almost nice to see you guys, nobody ever comes and visits me this time.”

The briefcase is opened and Albert hands him two evidence bags. Dale lines them up neatly on the table just outside of Hank’s reach.

“Mr. Jennings, do you know what these are?”

“Bullets.”

“Yes. Both of them were fired by you, from the same weapon, within the last four years. As I understand it, there is a third one that went unrecovered and which killed a man named Joshua Bates in 1981. You were acquitted for that crime, but I’ll give you enough credit not to play stupid and act like you’re innocent when we both know you did, in fact, shoot him.” Dale taps his fingertip on the first specimen. “This one was removed from a vertebra in the upper section of Leo Johnson’s spinal column several weeks ago.” He indicates the second one with the same finger. “And this one was recently discovered in the remains of Shaun Lewis. Its ballistic properties are an exact match to the one we removed from Leo.” Dale collects them and hands them back to Albert before sitting and folding his hands on top of the table.

“And now you’re gonna ask about all that,” Hank guesses with an uncooperative expression. “Now here’s my question for you government spooks, what the hell’s in it for me if I talk?”

“A television in your cell,” Albert suggests.

Hank nods slowly. “Well…” He grins. “I had no stake in killing anybody. So uh… maybe you’ll make it so my situation doesn’t get any worse, supposing I _do_ talk. Theoretically, somebody might’ve actually paid me to do these horrible things, and maybe you’ll make sure they get taken down with me. How’s that sound, boys?”

“If you give us information leading to the arrest and prosecution of any other parties who were involved, we won’t also prosecute you for the murder of Shaun Lewis,” Dale offers. “And you’ll likely receive privileges, assuming your attorney can make them happen.”

Hank’s awful grin gets wider and he turns to his lawyer. “Can they do that?”

“It’s probably your best interest to take them up on it, yes.”

“Alright. Sounds like a pretty good deal, fellas. What’s the catch?”

“Nothing besides the usual ones,” Albert promises. “Now spill.”

Dale inserts a fresh microcassette into his recorder and turns it on to capture their interview for evidence purposes before speaking.

“When did you murder Shaun Lewis?”

“What, you want an exact date?” he snorts.

“As close as you can manage, yes.”

“November something. 1985.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“Because Ben Horne paid me five hundred bucks to shoot that faggot.”

Dale’s eyebrows raise of their own accord. “Was a reason given for why Mr. Horne wanted him to die?”

“Yeah, it’s all politics and land-grabbing, the usual shit with him. He was kinda banking on Harry not being able to stay in office after from being too ‘emotionally disturbed’ or whatever. Avenues of power, you understand. Then him and Jerry could have more control over what happened in town. And before you ask, yes, he paid me to shoot Leo for pretty much the same reason. Getting people outta the way who annoyed them. Too bad for Ben it didn’t actually work on Harry, huh?”

“Was Jeremy Horne also directly involved in these crimes?”

“Oh, absolutely. He helped do the planning for how everything would happen. So you’re gonna lock him up too, right?”

“If he’s found guilty, yes.”

Hank looks at his lawyer. “I want a color tv.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Dale and Albert leave in short order and all he can think about on the drive back to Twin Peaks is how gratifying it’ll feel to arrest Benjamin Horne. A rotten and morally bankrupt human being if Dale’s ever met one, it’s a wonder his recent “turning good” act has been fooling anyone.

“Albert, we’d be best off securing backup from the sheriff’s department,” Dale points out as they enter the town limits.

“If you fucking insist, Coop,” Albert grunts, rolling his eyes. “First degree murder and conspiracy?”

“That’s the ticket.”


	8. A Negotiation

Dale awakes to the sensation of soft breaths on his neck, strong arms draped around his chest, and a firm body spooned against his back. Judging by how relaxed Harry is, Dale surmises he’s still sleeping. It had been odd, but not unwelcome… Harry eventually became so drunk he almost couldn’t walk, and after Dale went to bed had come stumbling into the guest room and climbed into the sheets with a single, sad request: _“Don’t make me be alone, Coop.”_

Dale had naturally obliged and moved from the center of the mattress to the side so that Harry would have enough room. He never expected to wake up being snuggled, and despite the circumstances it fills him with warm feelings, enough to make him smile into his pillow. At this point, Dale finds it easiest to finally admit it to himself… he loves Harry. Perhaps he’s been in love with Harry the entire time.

A single, quiet snore. It occurs to Dale that Harry’s breath is extremely alcohol-heavy and he immediately stops enjoying the situation. Harry is here on the business of immense emotional pain. The only way Dale could feel more guilty right now would be if they were in Harry’s room instead of the one for guests, lying together on the same bed Harry shared with his late husband. A husband he very obviously still loves, still misses, and now grieves.

His dismal thoughts are interrupted by Harry stirring. He shuffles slightly, breathes in, mumbles “…Dale?”

“Yes, Harry.”

A quiet grunt. Harry presses his face into the back of Dale’s neck, briefly hugging him closer at the same time. And immediately following, Harry returns to slumber and relaxes again.

Dale concludes that his friend wasn’t fully cognizant just now. Intriguingly, Harry did clearly know it was him, not mistaking him for Shaun or Josie or any previous lovers who undoubtedly caused heartbreak even without dying to achieve it. He also decides that Harry will be too hungover to work today, but it’s Friday so it shouldn’t be a big deal. The station will get along without Harry and Albert, who’s completing the paperwork for Jerry and Ben’s arraignment, will get along without Dale as well.

Things are quiet for awhile. Eventually he gives in to the desire to carefully roll over, causing as little disturbance as possible, and nestle his face into the sanctuary of Harry’s throat and jaw. Dale gently folds them both into each other so their chests press together and closes his eyes. It would be more pleasant if he wasn’t choking on the alcohol fumes escaping from his friend’s skin, but he should be alright for a few minutes at least.

Harry begins to move again. One hand shifts to rest on the back of his head and he feels Harry swallow shortly before a grumble.

“That you, Coop?”

“Yes, Harry, it’s me.”

“’m I dreaming still?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Hm.” Harry pulls Dale in close. “Yeah, my head hurts. I’m probably awake.”

“Harry…”

“Yeah, Coop.”

“Why…?”

A beat of silence. “You’re always here for me when I need it. And. I know people trick me a lot, but you never look down on me or call me an idiot after, you just tell me what the truth really is and then we move on from it.”

Dale already hates himself for what he’s about to say.

“Harry, I’m sorry, but we can’t do this now. You’re involved in a case I’m working on and you’re in extreme emotional distress. I’m not saying by any means that it can’t ever happen at all for us, but it needs to be postponed.”

A sigh. “Yeah, that makes sense,” Harry mumbles.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It really isn’t, but thank you for saying so anyway.” Dale presses his face into Harry’s neck. “I’m unlucky and inept at relationships. But I also love you very much. Perhaps in several months, once the trial is over, we can reexamine things.”

“That’s a long time, Coop.”

“I want you to have the space you need to heal from everything first.”

“Well maybe… you’re what I need to heal.”

Dale renegotiates. “Two weeks.”

A nod. “Much better.”

He smiles, “Alright, Harry,” and carefully removes himself from the bed. Soft, heavy eyes follow his motions. “I’m going to bring you some aspirin and then breakfast take-out from the diner. You’re going to stay in bed and relax.”

Harry grins up at him and jokingly salutes with his hand. “You got it, Coop.”


	9. Epilogue - A Starry Night Sky

Jeremy Horne is indicted as an accessory to the crimes.

Benjamin Horne is indicted on two counts of conspiracy, one count of attempted murder, and one count of first degree murder.

Two weeks ago, during the pretrial hearing, the sweetest words Dale and Harry have heard in a long time were spoken by Judge Sternwood: both defendants were to be remanded without bail. Now, they’re back at Harry’s fishing cabin, sitting on the dock and looking up at the stars.

“Harry, I need to tell you about a dream I had last night,” Dale announces.

Harry chuckles. “Okay, Coop, go ahead.”

“I was in the White Lodge again, and your husband was there.” Dale reaches a hand into the cargo pocket on his pantleg and pulls out a small plastic bag. “He wants you to call his family and speak with them about what happened. I attempted to explain to him that they’ve already been informed, but he was insistent.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell Harry it’s okay.’ Consider yourself informed that it’s okay, Harry.” Dale opens the evidence packet and picks the wedding ring out from inside. “He also wanted me to ask you on his behalf to take this-” He places it in Harry’s palm. “-and the one you have around your neck, and bury them at the elevation sign.”

Harry’s quiet for a long moment. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes. He’s apparently not interested in watching you cry yourself to sleep every night and he wants you to get on with your life. His words, not mine. And he was adamant that I tell you a second time that ‘it’s okay.’ None of this was at any point explained, though he did assure me that you’d know what he meant when I told you.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Dale… thanks. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. If you don’t want to explain anything to me, you don’t have to. But if you’re alright talking about this, I’d be interested to know what he was referring to.”

“Okay. Well… so with the wedding rings, uh, there’s a wood sign saying the elevation at the top of Whitetail Mountain. We hiked it one summer, and it was raining like hell all morning. We almost didn’t go. About halfway up, the clouds finally went away and it was real nice once we got all the way to the top. And… we ate lunch up there, next to the sign.” There are lines of moisture running down, but Harry also smiles before wiping his face on his forearm. “God, Coop, I was so nervous I almost puked. I didn’t even do it right, both of us were still sitting there next to the sign and I just blurted it out. And he didn’t believe me at first. ‘Harry, is this a joke?’ It wasn’t a joke. So I took a big deep breath and I said it a second time, nice and slow, because I wanted him to see that I meant it. ‘Shaun, will you marry me.’” Harry still smiles through his tears. “I thought he was gonna say no… he was so surprised, and I kinda figured out he wasn’t actually expecting me to ask him that. But he said _yes._ And he didn’t even stop to think about it first, either. I guess he didn’t think I’d ask him because he figured nobody could ever wanna get married to him at all.”

“But why would he make that assumption?” Dale wonders.

Harry shakes his head and sucks in a sharp, shaking breath. “Coop, you gotta understand, even if he didn’t get murdered, he might’a already died by now anyway.”

He recalls the box of condoms. “Your husband had HIV.”

“Yeah. I never wanted to think about it. Sometimes I even forgot, and I figured they’ll come up with new meds or a cure or something soon. And y’know… maybe it’s not as bad that he went out this way instead, none’a the infections or weird cancers or anything. He was gonna die in a few years anyway…”

“But while you were with him, you took proper precautions.”

“Yeah, I didn’t catch it. I got checked again while you were in the hospital because of what you said about Josie, too, and Will’s gonna have my blood run a second time in a few months just to make sure.”

They sit in silence for awhile, watching the sky. Dale has to wonder how Harry could’ve been in so much denial back then about Shaun’s health condition. But he also immediately realizes he’s suffered that same naïve hope himself, that everything would turn out fine with him and Caroline…

“Presumably when you climb Whitetail Mountain to honor Shaun’s request, you’d like to do it alone,” he says finally.

“Yeah. I should do it by myself.”

“I understand.”

Harry looks at him. “Hey, Coop?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“So… a couple weeks ago, you asked me this same thing, and I gotta know. Why me?”

Dale smiles. “Oh, so many reasons. You’re kind, honorable, loyal, intelligent. It was readily apparent even before I knew you particularly well that you have a great depth of caring and tenderness. But recall my previous lamentations about a lack of stability… I spoke about it while we were in your fishing boat. You’re a fixed object, Harry. I can’t fathom a single reason why you would ever leave Twin Peaks. Until I came here, I was essentially drifting aimlessly and pushed along only by my work. I had no life outside of the Bureau. But here, with you, I can finally be held down and stationary. You can help me finally stand still.”

All of this is true, of course. But Dale sincerely hopes that it will also reassure Harry, because Josie had repeatedly disappeared without warning and Shaun had been very vocal about wanting to leave. Harry wants, needs, someone who will stay put with him. And Dale wants and needs to stay put himself.

Dale watches as Harry slips the wedding band onto the string around his neck to rest beside its twin… and then, he reaches over to take Dale’s hand.

“You wanna hear something weird?”

“Alright.”

“I don’t feel all that guilty about this.” Harry indicates their joined hands. “But I know I should feel guilty, and _not_ feeling guilty makes me feel guilty.”

Dale chuckles. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel about anything, Harry. But in my vision, Shaun was very insistent that you know ‘it’s okay,’ and if I had to hazard a guess I believe this is what he was referring to.”

“Yeah.”

They turn back to the stars. Dale swats a mosquito with his free hand, otherwise enjoying the calm that’s settling over them both. The lake reflects the beautiful purple-black of the night sky, speckled with tiny diamond stars all throughout. Their pantlegs are rolled to their knees so their bare toes can rest in the water under the side of the dock. It’s reminiscent of being a teenager, almost, because Harry feels so shy sitting next to him when they’re only holding hands and have previously cuddled in bed. Dale finds that endearing, to be honest.

Slowly, Harry leans sideways to rest on Dale’s shoulder. Dale smiles and bends his neck to kiss Harry’s head through the fluffy curls.

“Harry?”

“Mm.”

“Who’s the last person that said they love you?”

“Uh… you, actually, a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Yes, he did, didn’t he? “Alright. Will you let me say it again?”

Dale can hear his grin in his voice. “Go for it.”

“Harry, I love you.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he chuckles.

“I know the last person you said it to was Josie, so I won’t press you to also say it to me if you don’t want.”

“Thanks, Coop.”

He doesn’t have to say it. Dale already knows he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are on Saturdays.
> 
> All my Twin Peaks fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=127943&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Aaron_The_8th_Demon).
> 
> Comments are welcomed and encouraged! :)


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